If I Know Me
by LSMunch
Summary: If I know me, I'll turn this car around. I won't get halfway through town, and I'll be sorry. I'll stop and call and you'll say you're sorry too and I'll come running back to you, if I know me.


Disclaimer: Not mine. And the title, and summary, are courtesy of George Strait.

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His sweater did little to protect him from the wind as he walked down the street. Why he hadn't grabbed his coat, he didn't know, but it probably had something to do with the fact that he had been so intent on leaving that he had just plain forgotten. Now, though, he wished he'd had enough peace of mind to think of it. _Too late now_, he thought bitterly.

The cold wind seemed to calm him, or else it simply made him too cold to think about being angry with her. He hoped it was the former, as he never intended for his simple statement to reach such large proportions. Being angry with her, fighting with her, it was never something he enjoyed, yet lately it seemed to happen more often than not. That fact in itself made him hate fighting with her even more, made him tread lightly when it came to certain topics. There were things he had stopped talking about all together, hoping that by avoiding mentioning it, he could avoid the fight. But that only caused different fights, different arguments that left him on the couch, unable to sleep.

Starting a relationship with her that not only deliberately broke policy, but also deliberately put his heart on the line for what seemed like the billionth time was something he had been not only nervous about, but doubted very much. There were two things that were immensely obvious to him from the get-go; his age and his marital history. And no matter how many times she reassured him in as many different ways, he couldn't help but be led back to his same misgivings. She couldn't love him, he was too old. He couldn't love her, he'd break her heart like he'd done a million times before. He'd break his own heart, slowly and painfully, through her. It would never work as long as they worked together.

And now... now he was being proven right.

What was he thinking? Okay, so they were together, hell, there were times he thought they were in love, that she was 'the one'. He could accept that much with a considerable amount of grace. He knew her, inside and out, could finish her sentences and read her mind if he cared to. He could accept that, even if it took a little more willpower to stop himself from questioning it. She was angry with him lately, over what he didn't know, and each argument seemed to lead him farther from discovery instead of closer. That he knew, too, though he didn't really enjoy accepting it as fact. Then what exactly was it that he was missing?

"Damnit," he muttered, as he realized that he had forgotten his cell phone back at the apartment. He stopped walking and dug both his hands in his pocket, trying to find some change. Nothing. Looking around, he quickly got his bearings and decided on the best course back to his apartment. Back to her.

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When he finally arrived back at the apartment, covered in a light dusting of snow and nursing frozen fingers and wind bitten ears, he realized he didn't have his key with him either. Curling his fingers into a fist, which was considerably harder than it ought to be, he knocked on the door. "Olivia," he called. He wondered if she would let him in. "Liv, please, open the door." He heard footsteps coming and listened as she unlocked and opened the door. She didn't open it enough for him to enter though.

"What?" He can't pin an emotion on her voice, though it did sound sad, perhaps mingled with exhaustion.

"I want to talk."

Those seemed to be the magic words because she didn't question him, and opened the door wider and lets him in. Noticing his shivering and now wet hair and damp clothes, she offered quietly, "Why don't you take a hot shower first." He looked about to protest, but she held up a hand. "I'll be here when you get out."

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He had borrowed her hair dryer in an attempt to warm himself faster after his shower. When he walked into the living room, she was sitting on the couch, watching television. Hearing him, she looked up, "So, what d'you wanna talk about?"

_I shouldn't have taken that shower,_ he thought. _Now I lost my damn nerve_. Walking over and sitting next to her, he asked simply, "Why are we fighting?" It seemed the only logical course of action to him at this point, having forgotten nearly every reason why he had come back. He hoped they would come back soon.

"The hell if I know, John." There was anger in her voice, that much was plain to him.

"I think you do. Now, listen to me," he held up his hand to prevent her from telling him off, "I love you. I love you more than I can put into words or actions or anything. I look at you sleeping and my heart swells and I know that's what I'm supposed to feel. I watch you make dinner and I can't help but smile. We watch a movie at night, and at some point, I glance over at you leaning on my shoulder and you've fallen asleep and I brush a bit of hair from your face and kiss your forehead and I'm content to do that the rest of my life. I love you, Liv. There'll never be a time when I don't love you. And lately, these fights... I don't understand why. Why are we doing this to ourselves?"

She looked away at that point and he knew she was as confused as he was. Pulling his leg up, he faced her, taking her hands in his. "You can't explain it either," he said softly. "Look, that's okay, Liv, just... try. Please. Tell me if there's something I'm doing, tell me if there's something going on with you. If I know, I can help fix whatever's wrong, I can help make it better."

She got up abruptly, leaving his hands to fall to the couch. He followed her with his eyes as she walked to the window. He decided to let her stay there a moment and gather her thoughts before getting up and joining her.

"I don't know, John. God, I don't know." Her words, filled with fear, prompted him to forgo his former plan and get up and walk over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Let me help you figure it out," he whispered in her ear.

She leaned her head to the side, and it came to rest against the side of his head, her hair tickling his face. "If I don't know, how are we supposed to figure it out?"

"Well, let's see. We're detectives, with forty odd years of cases between us. We figure out things we don't know for a living. Then, there's the small, almost insignificant fact that we practically know each other inside and out, finish each others sentences and almost alwayshappen to know what's wrong with the other. I think we might be able to figure it out."

"It's not like we have any evidence, any leads."

"That's never stopped us before, has it?" His hands slid down to wrap around her stomach. "C'mon, the least we can do is try." She sighed and he went ahead. "Something at work, maybe? Elliot giving you problems? Or maybe not... you over-thinking something? Or are you wondering if this is really going to work? Us, I mean. Maybe..."

"I don't know, John." The anger was back in her voice and he pulled his head from her shoulder.

"Think about it, please. I hate fighting and arguing with you so much. I just want to make everything better."

She pulled out of his grasp and turned to look at him. "Well, maybe you can't do that, John. Maybe you can't fix the world and everything in it."

He pointed his finger at her. "That's it, isn't it? You've been thinking too much about that. You're in a slump because that fact is beating you down every time you try to prove it wrong. That's it."

Her face contorted into one of angry disbelief. "How can you say that with such _conviction_? How do you know if I'm thinking too much about being unable to fix everything?"

Fighting to keep calm instead of letting it rile him into yelling back, he said, "I love you. I know you. That's it."

"How can you be so sure about everything? How do you know you know me?" Her voice had taken on a desperate tone.

"I'm not sure about everything. Far from it. How many times have I confessed that I'm unsure about our whole relationship? And how many times have you countered that with words of comfort, saying you loved me? This is the same thing. God, Liv, I love you, you love me, we help each other. Have you forgotten that?"

"It's not the same thing, John."

"And what makes _you_ so sure of _that_?" When she failed to answer, he continued. "It is the same thing. I needed you to tell me I was being stupid and you loved me and always would. Now, you need me to tell you the same thing. I love you and always will. The fact that you can't fix everything doesn't change that at all. The fact that we've been fighting so much lately doesn't change that. Hell, if you decided to leave, my heart might break, but I'd still love you. Pushing me away, running away, yelling at me... I'd still love you."

"Why? How could you still love me if I did all those things?"

"Jesus, Olivia! I'm," he jabbed a finger into his chest, "supposed to be the one who asks that. I'm supposed to be the one who doubts everything. And you're," he pointed at her again, "supposed to be the solid one. The one _I_ lean on. What happened to that? Huh? Why have the tables turned?"

"Because I can't! I can't do it anymore! How can I be sure about anything anymore? Nothing makes sense anymore."

"I don't think love ever makes sense. And you can do it. You can do _anything._ When did you stop believing that?"

She faltered and he took that as his chance to step forward, to brush a stray piece of hair from her face.

"Was it when you finally and suddenly realized that our job never stops? When that cold, hard, _evil_ fact had cornered you and wouldn't let you go? When it made you get on your knees and beg to let you go and it wouldn't leave you alone? Because I've been there. It got me sooner than you, though, and only recently have I been able to fight back. Do you know how I drove it back? Do you know what gave me the strength? This. You. When you first started working in the unit, I thought you were crazy, the way you threw yourself into every case. Every woman, every child... they were yours and yours alone. And it might have gotten you down, but you always got back up. I was convinced that you wouldn't last any longer than Brian would. I thought you'd burn out before you even got anywhere. But you kept going and I started wondering if you'd ever realize what I already knew, what I lived with every day. If you'd ever realize that the world isn't working with you, it's against you. That everything you do comes back and bites you in the ass later. Then, I realized you might never figure it out. God, I loved you for that. I loved that you could do anything. _Anything._ Things that shoved me down, you brushed off. I wished that I could do that again. Be invincible again.

"Now... now you've finally realized it and I wish with all my heart that you hadn't. This hopelessness, this alone feeling, it's manifesting itself into anger. I don't want you to turn bitter. That's my job in this relationship. I'm the bitter, cynical old guy that you manage to love through sheer might. If you take that role... what am I supposed to do? I'll be unemployed, and I'm not so great at the retirement thing. I tried it already. It was boring." He smiled. "I can't fix the world and everything in it, and neither can you. Nobody can. You can't forget that, not now at least, but you can go on like before. You can take every woman, every child, and hold them for all eternity because you can. You can do everything. And if you get stuck, I'm here. I'll always be here."

There were tears in her eyes at this point and he couldn't stop himself from taking her face in his hands and kissing her forehead. Wrapping her arms around him, he couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he let a kiss fall on her head as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

"If you squeeze any tighter, I might stop breathing," he teased gently, but she did nothing to loosen her hold, though truth be told, he didn't really mind. He had missed this. Missed her, even though she was right there every day and every night, it wasn't the same as this.

This was what he had been missing.


End file.
